


Mastering the Art of Friends Cooking

by el_em_en_oh_pee



Series: cooking competition au [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cooking, Cooking Show, Food, Food Fight, Food Network Challenge, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/pseuds/el_em_en_oh_pee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall has spent years of practice preparing for his appearance on the Next Food Network Star. He expected his life to change as a result of it - just not quite in this way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mastering the Art of Friends Cooking

**Author's Note:**

> So I accidentally watched all of the X Factor Sainsbury's videos about ten times each and then this happened? Thanks as always to the beautiful Caitlin for holding my hand through this whole process.
> 
> (I am well aware that the competition portrayed in this fic follows more of a combination of the most recent season of TNFNS, Top Chef, earlier seasons of TNFNS, the X Factor, a zillion other food competitions, and probably also Project Runway than The Next Food Network Star specifically. Oops.)

"And there it is," Simon says, shooting his little self-satisfied smirk at the camera. "They're all quite young, for chefs, and _some_ might go so far as to call them undertrained-" and that's surely a dig at the head of the network and frequent judge, Louis Walsh, who has, in past seasons, snarked at Simon regularly for the cooks he chooses for his team – "but they've got a lot of heart in them."

His smile widens. "I wouldn't have chosen a single one of them if they couldn't cook like a dream and tell a good story while doing it. Dannii and Cheryl don't have a chance."

+++

It's kind of intimidating, having Simon pick him for his team. Niall distinctly remembers a recent article describing Simon as having the culinary knowledge of Alton Brown and the precision and temper of Gordon Ramsay, all muddled up with that distinctly _Simon_ twist – a dry and somewhat vindictive humor and a _mean_ hand with knife-work.

Honestly, he'd have preferred Cheryl to select him. She's quite famous – not that Simon isn't, but she had a cooking show with the network before she started judging, rather than just a stream of high-profile restauranteur jobs and judging positions on Top Chef and the like – and she's notoriously sweet for a chef. He'd _expected_ her to pick him, or maybe Dannii, even if it's just because she knows better than anyone what it's like, cooking for a network in an entirely new country and bringing a generally less-recognized fusion of flavors along in the process. 

That, and Niall heard all throughout culinary school that he's completely charming for a cook, that the ladies will love him. 

But now he's standing with Simon, on _Simon's team_ , holding hands with some of the other lads Simon picked because he's just so _thrown_ that Simon would select him over, say, that Cher girl with her distinctive personality and flair, or Mary, who reminds Niall a bit of his mum, in the nicest way possible. He's pretty sure he looks scared out of his mind, but he also can't stop grinning huge at the camera, just letting the relief wash through him.

He'd tweeted Alton the day before the final selection, hoping he'd maybe be able to get some tips, but Alton never responded. Busy man and all that. Now, Niall thinks, hands trembling until the crazy-haired guy holding it squeezes tight and smiles at him reassuringly, he may be able to actually _meet_ him.

+++

"Hi, I'm Harry Styles," Harry says, flicking his hair back in front of the camera. He really needs to find a hat that will keep all of his hair out of the way when he's in the zone, sweat pouring out of his brow, so that he doesn’t get kicked off for a hair on a plate or something like that. Something attractive, though, so it doesn't look too out of place when he's on air. "Yeah, I'm a bit nervous, aren't I? Well pleased that Simon picked me – that anyone picked me; you don't see many pastry chefs on cooking competitions, do you?"

He shrugs, listens to the off-screen interviewer's next question. "I do have quite a bit of experience with more savory foods, of course, I worked as a line cook when I was putting myself through culinary school, so I expect that I'll be able to take on all the challenges, but... pastry is definitely what I'm stronger with, and more comfortable with."

+++

It's not necessarily how Next Food Network Star has done things in the past, allowing the contestants a day to get settled in their house before they're thrust into the kitchen, but Simon tells them that stronger teams make for stronger individual competitors. "You're each trying to become the next Food Network Star," he tells them, when they're all sat in a circle in his office. "There's no way more than one of you will get it, though I’m determined that someone from my team _will_ be the one to succeed. But you'll all last longer and go further if you give each other a hand along the way, won't you?"

When he sends them all off to get to know each other – "Get dinner; eating food together always helps people out when they start to cook together" – they go to a little hole in the wall that Liam, who is most familiar with the area, recommends. 

Niall is a little intimidated by Liam, to be perfectly honest, because Liam obviously wants this so, so badly. It doesn't necessarily mean he'll be the better chef or the better personality, but... he's tried out for Top Chef in the past, even made it onto the first episode of one of the seasons. And Niall might be misremembering this – because Liam isn't strutting his resume out in front of everyone – but he's pretty sure Liam also was sous chef during at least one Iron Chef America battle.

He also knows good food when he sees it, because this restaurant is fucking delicious. 

The other thing that bothers Niall about the other guys on his team is how much he genuinely _likes_ them by the end of the night – Louis, with his great drink recommendations and ridiculous jokes; Harry, who doesn't let anyone order dessert on their own and instead studies them and their mostly-empty plates for a moment and then guesses orders for all of them, smiling impishly as he gets Niall something Niall would never have ordered but which he ends up loving to bits; Liam, who is serious and even frowns a bit as he recommends specific appetizers to the table but who smiles happily into his food when Louis claps him on the shoulder and thanks him; and Zayn, who is generally pretty quiet – Niall can't tell whether he's shy or just naturally reserved – save for one or two moments when he says something so perfectly delightful that Niall can't help but grin.

He really, really wants to win this. He's worked hard, scrimping every cent he makes to travel and learn cooking techniques all over the world until he got the fusion he likes best down pat and went back to Ireland to open up a proper restaurant. He's put in the blood, sweat, and tears and finally paid off the loans from when he went to culinary school. His arms are dotted with the scars of the burns and gashes he's accrued along the way, the most recent burn from spattering oil nicely scabbed over, finally, and healing up well, and just...

Niall just wants to share his food with the world. African-Irish fusion isn't what people _normally_ think of when they hear of fusion foods – it's definitely no Korean tacos – and he just really wants everyone to be able to know about it.

He wants to win.

But by the time they finish up their after-dinner drinks and hail a taxi to go back to the house, he doesn't want his teammates to lose, either.

+++

"Louis Tomlinson here," Louis says, grinning at the cameraman. "I’m really excited to be here, on Simon's team, with the other lads he's chosen. I think we're all really strong contenders, and it's interesting, too. You know how all teams cook together on some challenges, take on different roles – it really helps that we've a pastry chef for when we need to make desserts, but we're really all so eclectic – what?"

He listens for a moment as the interviewer speaks. "Right, right. I mostly focus on traditional French methods of cooking with a splash of modernization thrown in there and a bit of a Nouvelle slant overall. I suppose I'm the most faithful to one specific, er, _genre_ of cuisine than the others, but that doesn't mean that my food will be any less exciting" He rakes a hand through his hair. "It'll be a really close battle, that much I can say."

+++

As it turns out, Zayn and Liam actually know each other and have done for quite some time; although Liam has spent the past few years working with Art Smith, they both spent at least a little bit of time learning from Cat Cora. Admittedly, though, it was in very different ways.

Niall finds this out when they're getting dressed in the morning. They all stay in the same room – usually each team gets two rooms, one for the guys and one for the women, but Simon's team doesn’t have any girls this year. Which on the one hand means that Niall already knows exactly what Harry's dick looks like and what Liam's morning breath smells like, but on the other hand means they get the biggest room in the house.

Which is probably for the best, considering what a wreck it is after just one day.

Zayn and Liam are huddling around the mirror, brushing their hair – which will be important if their challenge today involves a camera challenge and less so if they're just cooking – when Liam says, "So how's Cat doing, anyway?"

And that's when it hits Niall: he's in with the real deal. And yeah, he's got loads of experience, but he's never worked with anyone, well, super famous in the industry before, unless you count fast food chains and his job as a fry cook at Nando's back when he was in his senior cycle. That's part and parcel of most of his education coming from a continent that isn't generally considered when people think of haute cuisine.

"Hey, you lot," he interjects, causing Liam and Zayn to look up from their deep discussion of their experience working for Cora and how Zayn's long-term girlfriend, who he's been with since cooking school and who Liam has apparently hung out with lots, is doing. Louis stops throwing articles of clothing at Harry in an apparently futile attempt to get him to dress. Niall flashes a smile at everyone. "Are you ready to smoke this competition?"

+++

"Yes, I've worked for Cat Cora and Art Smith," Liam says, crossing his arms. "Yes, I know that Cat generally focuses on Mediterranean food. That was initially my intention. Something about her sweet Southern charm got to me, though."

He raises his eyebrows at the camera. "I know it might be a bit strange, a lad from England like myself making all this Southern food from the States, but I expect that just gives me a bit of an edge in this competition, makes me a little more unique." He smiles. It looks somewhat more determined than it does happy. "All the others had best watch out. I'm in it to win it."

+++

Their first challenge is to make a pizza with their own kind of spin on it, so after a little bit of consideration, Niall takes out some steak and pork belly and a meat grinder and starts making a loose boerewors for his main topping.

"Be nice if they provided us with a crust," he remarks, and Harry grins at him from the next station over.

"Dunno if that would help me," he says, elbow-deep in some kind of white powder. "I'm making a sugar crust, myself."

Oh, right. Harry does desserts. "Pinch a bit off for me before you bake it," Niall tells him. "I'm a bit hungry right now." He's pleased when Harry laughs.

"What are you doing, then?" Harry asks. The cameramen – and women, if the ponytail on the closest one is anything to go by – are starting to get wind of this exchange. Someone shuffles closer. Niall tries to ignore it, because focusing on the cameras will probably just make him a bit too stiff too early into the competition.

"Boerewors," Niall tells him, and at Harry's blank look – "It's a sausage I ate a lot of and made a lot of when I was in South Africa. I want to give the flavors time to, you know. Mix."

"So that's why you didn't start off on your crust straightaway," Harry says, turning his lump of dough into another bowl. He pauses for a moment, hand resting on top of the lump, before shaking himself slightly and covering it with plastic and slipping it into the fridge. "I've got time before I have to roll it out and prebake it, want me to start on your crust for you?"

Niall's mouth drops open, because this is a competition and even though they're on the same team, they're still... competition.

But honestly, this is probably what Simon was talking about. Teamwork will look better to the viewers, and people who the fans like last longer. "That'd be great," he says, finally. "Thanks."

After his sausage is resting in the bowl and the dough Harry throws together like it's nothing is resting on his work station, and Niall has finished the rest of his prep, he repays Harry by helping him chop up a huge chunk of chocolate while Harry browns butter on the stove. 

"Cheers," Harry says, when his station is covered with a pile of chocolate shavings and chunks of distressingly uneven sizes – Niall spent two weeks in culinary school perfecting his knife skills by adding hours of practice after he got home, just to make his mirepoix work better, but chocolate is just this other entity altogether. It's embarrassing, is what it is. Harry doesn't seem to mind, though; just piles the whole lot into a double boiler and starts stirring.

So Niall just grins and starts rolling out his dough and ignores the way that Cher-from-Cheryl's-team is fashioning her crust into cones and flash-frying them, super quickly, the way that Louis has apparently abandoned zesting his lemons and started sprinkling the rind onto Liam's hair whenever he's not watching, the way that Zayn is singularly focused on grilling his crust into these little flatbreads with perfect char marks, the way that Aiden-from-Dannii's-team is mixing some kind of chemical into some kind of juice and turning it into a bunch of those fake caviar bubbles.

He can't ignore the way that Harry is humming next to him, though, and as he spreads the tomato chutney he prepared earlier onto the crusts and sears off his sausage into these delicious little crumbles, he can't help but join in.

+++

"I know," Niall says, "It's somewhat strange for an Irishman to know more about South African cooking than anything else, right?" He grins, ruefully. "So I wanted to clear up some questions you might have after the pizza I presented today. Yes, I got into it because of my job at Nando's." His grin widens, cheekily. "I wanted to learn the complete recipes we didn't cover back in the kitchen! And since I loved food – and cooking, of course – I went to culinary school and as soon as I had enough money, I went on down to Johannesburg and camped out in every kitchen I could until I learned everything."

He smiles at the memory, happily. "And then it was up the East Coast until I hit Egypt, just learning more and different things every day. I'd say what I have now is still mostly South African-skewed, though I do bring in some other elements." He thinks for a moment. "For example, I do a bit of Irish fusion at me restaurant just to introduce the flavors better to my patrons, like."

+++

The days start to blur together after their Las Vegas brunch challenge. Niall has never cooked his heart out so much before in his life, which is saying a lot, considering he's dedicated his entire life to food.

Amazingly, Simon's team is still completely intact. Dannii's team has taken a few hits, and Cheryl has lost some, too, but Simon's lads are staying strong. 

Which is good, except Niall knows deep in his heart that someone is probably going to go home in the next challenge – they can't let the teams get so uneven that Simon still has five and everyone else just has two or three left. And he just – well, he doesn't want to say goodbye to any of the other guys on his team, and he certainly doesn't want to see them sad - he can still remember the look on Louis's face when he came out of the producer's office with Simon, bone-white and shaking because they'd told him that his personality was too jarring for television and he would need to tone it down or resign himself to leaving the competition.

He'd thrown himself at Louis when they'd gotten back to the house, hugged him tight as the rest of the boys gathered around, Liam slipping his arm around Louis's waist, Zayn rubbing his shoulder, Harry coming up behind and pulling him into a great bear hug.

Harry's arms went partway around Niall, too, his chest pressed up tight against his knuckles.

It was nice, you know, apart from the whole melancholy of the moment.

Tonight, though, they're celebrating getting through another challenge with flying colors. The producers were full of talk about how Simon's team, above all others, functions really fucking well together on group tasks. About how interesting it is that they work like that, given their completely different backgrounds.

Any normal group of people would take a night off from competing as an excuse to go out to a club, or see a film. Lord knows Cher and Mary and Matt and Aiden and Rebecca and them are all – well, not in the house, at least; Aiden is probably dragging Matt and Paije and possibly Cher to some well posh bar with drinks with more ingredients than Niall cares to think about, and the other girls are probably at the cinema. 

Niall piles into the house kitchen with the other lads, though, to make dinner together. "I doubt we'll be given a challenge to make our favorite dish without any qualifiers," Liam had said, and Harry had agreed, and Niall just really wants to eat something good and he _knows_ the other boys make great food and even better company, so.

So Harry flicks his hair back and takes off his chef's jacket – he's wearing a t-shirt that looks really good on him – and gets out the flour, since baking is a process that demands more time than anything the others have planned.

"Teach me," Niall says, coming up in front of him, and Harry rewards him with this long, slow grin. 

"Grab the butter, yeah?" he says, so Niall does.

The final spread is: Niall's upscale version of Nando's peri-peri chicken, which was the first recipe he perfected once he got back from Africa; Louis's ratatouille crepes; Liam's fancy version of shrimp and grits; Zayn's bulgur salad – it's not quite tabbouleh, a bit too eclectic to be pinned down to any one region in the Mediterranean – and Harry's beautiful sponge cake, drizzled in glaze and dripping with berries.

The food looks delicious, but the kitchen is a mess by the end – Louis gets the grand idea of cracking an egg on Liam's head, and Liam, shocked and a bit miffed, upends chicken stock all over Louis's lap when he's focusing on mixing his batter. Niall, of course, gets in on it, flinging a handful of flour at Louis but mostly getting it all over Harry, who retaliates by tossing berries one by one to see if he can land them in the curve of Zayn's quiff, and by the time the food is prepared, they're all of them giant messes and the kitchen looks like they forgot to put covers on ten different blenders and set them off all at once.

It's delicious, though. Zayn whips up cocktails for everyone, and Harry pitches in, because their food needs the least amount of tending once it's mostly done, and.

Well.

If they leave the cleanup for the clean-up crew to go upstairs and play high-stakes poker and drink more in their room after they're done feasting on the food, who can really blame them?

By the end of the night, Niall is drunk and full and leaning into Harry as Louis picks up Liam's electric toothbrush and starts singing into it. And then Harry joins in from the floor, the rumble of his voice against Niall's side so incredibly pleasant that Niall jumps in as well, and then Zayn and Liam do too, and, well.

"We sound great," Niall remarks, surprised, after they reach a part in the song when he pretty much can't remember any of the words, and maybe it's just the booze talking, but like – still. 

"Yeah," Louis says. "If the cooking show thing doesn't work out, we can always try and start a barbershop quintet."

"Oh, shove off, I was serious," says Niall, but Harry has started running his fingers through Niall's hair, and somehow he can't quite bring himself to care anymore.

+++

"Yeah, my dad's Pakistani," Zayn says, fiddling with his thumbs, a little awkwardly. "Mum's not. I dunno, I love the food, but I was really more drawn to the Mediterranean in cooking school." He glances up. "There _is_ a lot of variation there, but a lot of similarities, too? I lucked out with Cat Cora, learned a lot of Greek and Helleasian from her, but I also learned a lot of, you know, Egyptian and Jordanian and Syrian stuff, too, after that."

He shrugs. "I just like the food, and I try to mix it up as much as I can. Hopefully it's unique enough that people will want to see a show about it."

+++

"You're the Rick Bayless of African cuisine," Alton says, and Niall wants to cry because even though he's pretty sure most of the guest judges tonight don't really know much about African cuisine, _Alton Brown_ still just gave him the best compliment he's ever received.

He goes off-set grinning like a madman, so jittery-weak with the leftover nerves from his camera challenge and relief and excitement about what Alton thinks about him that he can hardly put one foot in front of the other.

When he gets to the stew room, Harry is there, arms wide open, pulling Niall into a huge hug. "Look at you," he says into Niall's hair. 

"Did it really happen?" Niall asks, because Alton Brown commending his grasp of African food on television is something Niall has, quite admittedly, dreamed about in the past.

"It absolutely did, Nialler," Harry says, starting to pull back, but Niall clings onto him, doesn't let him go for a beat too long.

And then Aiden is coming in, glowing at all of the kudos he's apparently been given for making molecular gastronomy comprehensible during his camera challenge and Niall lets Harry go.

He doesn't notice until later, when Louis is preparing for the producer's challenge, more subdued than Niall has ever seen him before, that Harry somehow got flour all over Niall's side when they hugged.

+++

"I've always fancied myself more of a Nadia than a Nigella," Louis says. He tries to smile into the camera. His lips quirk, but don't quite make it. "I suppose the channel didn't want another, um. Wild personality like that, with the type of food I make."

He looks to the side, and when he finally looks back into the camera, his eyes are bright and shining and a bit red. "I just really wanted this," he whispers, and then he gets up and walks away.

+++

Louis going home is the worst news Niall's heard all competition, even though he knew it had to happen to one of them, eventually.

"It's just," Liam says the next day, when they're pulling on their jackets, so, so slowly; Niall doesn't want to go back and get the next star challenge without Louis there beside them, and he's quite positive the others feel the same way. "It's not the same without him, yeah? You boys are great," he adds, quickly, and blushes. "I mean, I never expected to find some of my best friends at a competition like this."

"Best friends and biggest competition," Zayn interjects, and Niall is pretty sure that everyone would laugh, normally, because it's such a _Louis_ thing to say, but it just... it falls short, today. 

"Yeah, that," Liam says. "It's just different without him, is it?"

Niall doesn't say anything, just goes and tugs Liam into a hug and pointedly doesn't look at Louis's empty bed.

When they leave the house to go to the kitchens, Louis is waiting outside, leaning against a fence. "Chin up, lads," he says, his smile not quite meeting his eyes. "You've got a competition to win. Avenge me!"

They really, really need to be going on to the next challenge – one of the handlers is motioning them along, but Liam still draws Louis aside. Niall can't quite make out exactly what they're saying, but he's pretty sure Louis mentions something about sticking around. There's a lot of Liam leaning in to Louis, impossibly close, and Louis resting his hand on Liam's arm, and shoulder, and cheek.

Niall glances quickly at Harry, then looks away, because Harry is shoving his hair back under his cooking bandana, which he's been using ever since he lost his hat, and his sleeves are slipping up his arm and it's just.

It's obscene, okay?

Niall brushes two fingers over Louis's arm as he passes by, wincing at him in solidarity. He doesn't want to say goodbye. "It's bollocks that you had to go," Niall says, screwing up his face at Louis.

"Someone had to go home first," Louis says, but he looks so sad when he says it that Niall has to turn away and go into the car.

Liam comes in too, finally, after the driver has honked for the third time, and then they're on their way to the kitchens.

It's the worst they've done on a group challenge yet.

+++

"They don't think that I have enough focus," Zayn says, heavily, fiddling with the lid on his box of cigarettes. He's pale, trembling a bit, obviously fuming. "Seeing as I incorporate so many different elements." He rolls his eyes, visibly. "So fusion food is limited to drastic differences, and combining Syrian and Greek and stuff isn't something people are interested in, because there's no _focus_ to it. Fine."

He looks around and sighs. "I just – Perrie has been so supportive of me doing this, and she's been taking care of our baby _and_ our kitchen, and I just feel like I've let them down a bit, you know? Them and myself and the rest of my team and Simon. I _do_ have direction and I wanted to show the world what I love on my very own show, but I guess it isn't going to be that way now, is it?

+++

The closer they get to the finals, the more intense the competition gets.

Niall doesn't particularly enjoy the pressure of it all. He's always been the type to cook because he loves to cook, and he just – he wants to be a Food Network star, he _does_. He wants to share his love with the world, and he thinks he can.

He just doesn't like that he has to say goodbye to his friends so regularly.

When Zayn goes, it's like a punch to the gut. It's so surprising, too – In Niall's humble opinion, even though Aiden is a good sort, he made a muck of his entire dish and didn't focus on the camera at all and yeah, Zayn is a bit shy and sometimes stumbles a bit in his presentation, but he's _good_ and he's _passionate_ and _funny_ , and. Well. Niall has just gotten quite a bit defensive on behalf of his competition.

That night, he tosses and turns in bed and can't fall asleep, because Liam is sighing across the room, flipping through pictures on his phone and the harsh light spilling from the screen is basically burning in Niall's eyes. 

He doesn't look too closely – Liam's phone is Liam's private business – but he can't help but notice that some of the pictures are of Louis.

Since Niall can't fall asleep anyway, he calls across the room, "So, Liam. You ask Lou out for after the competition yet, or?"

Liam sputters, almost drops his phone. "I – well – how did you _know_?"

"You just told me, mate," Niall says, chuckling a bit. It's nice, talking without the cameras around and trying to catch a glimpse of life in the house to add a bit of pizzazz to the aired show. It'd be better if Louis and Zayn were here – and Harry; Niall doesn't know where Harry's got off to just now – but still. He likes that they authentically get along really well off-camera.

"Oh," Liam says, and he's quiet for a while, before saying, "You and Harry-"

"What about me?" Harry says, as he comes through the door, and Liam fall silent. Which is good, because Niall is not quite yet ready to explore those emotions. Not when he has the promise of a cooking show looming over him, depending a great deal on how much he can focus and also on gaining everything he's worked towards for so long at the expense of his new-best-friend-and-possibly-more-if-he-lets-himself-consider-that-possibility-so-better-not.

"Just wondering where you were, Haz," Niall says, and Harry grins as he starts tugging off his shirt and pushing down his jeans and his pants.

"Miss me, did you?" he asks, and he launches himself so that he's sprawled out on Niall's bed, totally buff naked. 

"Yes," Liam says, dryly, from across the room. "I really haven't filled my naked cock quota for the day."

That startles a laugh out of Niall. Liam is _so_ different from the man Niall met in Simon's office at the start of the competition. Niall liked that guy fine, but this Liam is just wonderful. "It's funny because it's true," he mutters, but Liam and Harry both still hear it.

"Shut up," Liam says, rolling over in his bed and getting his phone out again, if the sudden glow of light is any indication.

Harry rolls into Niall, burying his head in Niall's neck. "What's he going on about?" he whispers. "Missing Louis?"

"You noticed too?" Niall says, and then he smirks wickedly "I don't think any of the pictures he has on his phone are naked."

Harry laughs. It's muffled, and the vibrations of his vocal chords or whatever it is that Niall is feeling against his shoulder send shivers down his to his fingertips. 

Somehow, he ends up with his arm around Harry's back.

When he wakes up, Harry is still curled tight against his side and Niall is feeling more rested than he has all week.

+++

Liam is obviously crying. "I hate this," he says. "I completely understand why I was the one chosen to go home today – I definitely was not performing up to snuff; my pasta was overworked and I should have rendered the fat on my duck more carefully." Also – and this Liam would never admit to – he'd kept thinking about the text Louis sent him the night before, a completely unexpected and shockingly un-sexual text message with a truly outlandish suggestion that Liam actually liked quite a bit, when he was supposed to be focusing on the story he was telling with his food.

"It still hurts, going home," he says. "It's like I've lost my biggest dream." He doesn't even try to force a smile, but his face relaxes for a brief moment. "I mean, I'm sure there's another way and I'll find it and I'll make it. But – it still really bloody sucks that I've got this far and now – nothing."

+++

Somehow, instead of just one person from each team going through to the finals, both Niall and Harry have been allowed special dispensation to compete, so they're sprawled out in the kitchens – very empty, now that there are only four contestants left – making a dish that links the food of their childhoods with the food they make now.

Niall peels plantains with sharp, definitive strokes of his knife, then cuts them into perfect wedges and flash-fries them. After he takes them out to drain and cool a bit, he turns the temperature under his oil up so that it's ready for the final crisping. He then starts preparing his tilapia, doing his best to take the scales off without removing all of the skin, scoring the flesh and rubbing a dry spice marinade into the cuts. 

Harry is at the station right across from him, thumping some kind of dough under his rolling pin, a large pan of something sitting on the board next to him. Niall raises his eyes at Harry – he's being a bit more aggressive than usual with dough. Harry looks up and catches Niall watches. He grins, slow and sweet. Niall's stomach clenches.

He doesn't want to think about it. He shakes himself and goes back to making sure his fish is properly dressed and pouring a thin layer of oil into a frying pan, turning the flame up underneath it and letting it heat. "What are you making, then?" he asks, finally looking back up at Harry.

"Gourmet pasties," Harry says, grinning bigger and tipping some whole spices from a dry pan, presumably just toasted.

The kitchen is smelling better and better and Niall just – he doesn’t want to say goodbye to this competition, or to Harry. He desperately wants to win. The fact that Matt and Rebecca are the only people from their respective teams left, though, kind of indicates that either he or Harry will be going home first.

Niall wants to examine that possibility even less than he wants to examine the possibility that he's completely mad for his biggest competition at the moment.

He shakes his pan and slides both of his tilapia in, letting them fry up as he grabs some onions and tomatoes from the back of his station and starts dicing theme for a kachumbari salad, to lighten the heaviness of his dish and replace the more traditional mushy peas.

By the time he's gotten though the tomatoes and started on the onions, it's time to turn the fish – they're perfectly crispy and gorgeous on the side that's been in the oil. He only hopes the judges will respect the fact that he's made them with the head and tail, to maintain as much of the integrity of the recipe he's adapting as possible. 

And then it's the onions, the chili, the coriander, and dumping that in onto the tomatoes with a squeeze of lime and a pinch of salt. A quick stir and a push aside, and then he's spooning his plantain fries back into the hot oil for their final cook-through while the flavors of the kachumbari meld in a bowl at the corner of his station. By the time he's lined four ceramic baskets with checkered paper and his fish is done and sliced – some filet de-boned post-cooking, some tail, and a bit of the head goes into each basket, surrounded by the piping hot plantain fries he's seasoned with salt and a touch more of the spice marinade he used on the tilapia, he's mostly forgotten about the way Harry's hands look as he pushed the rolling pin back and forth and grasped his pestle when he was grinding his toasted spices down to bits.

As he fills cute little condiment bowls with his salad and wedges them in next to the fish, though, Niall chances a glance up. Harry is drawing the most gorgeous pasties Niall has ever seen out of the oven. They're golden and flaky and Niall can smell them from _here_ , and yeah, through his years as a cook he's developed some degree of immunity to great-smelling food, but his mouth is totally watering right now.

Even though it's late in the game to do a flavor-check, he tastes one of his fries and a shred of fish to make sure that they're good –they're great – and then steps in front of his work station to watch Harry pour gravy into a squeeze bottle and drizzle a truly spectacular pattern around each pasty, right before the timer runs out.

"Good job, mate," Niall says, holding out his hand to Harry, who comes around and slaps five. They both kind of pause on contact, though, and Niall ends up resting his palm against Harry's for a moment too long, before Harry looks over Niall's shoulder and nods. 

"Fish and chips?" he asks.

"Yeah."

Harry grins. "Classic," he says. "That's truly excellent."

"Thanks," Niall says. He pauses, and then – fuck it. "Good luck, Haz."

Harry looks at him for a long moment, then pulls him into a hug. "You too, Nialler."

+++

"I expected either Harry or I would have to leave next," Niall says, heavily. He shrugs. "I'm both glad and miffed that the judges had to get really picky about everything to make the choice. Obviously I’m kicking meself for the mushy fries at the bottom of the basket and the way that I went too heavily with where I am now as a cook than where I came from, but."

He squares his shoulders. "I suppose I've accepted it already? We're all of us great chefs, and we all deserve to have our own cooking show. I would love one, but there are other ways to get one, I suppose. I only hope that Harry Styles wins, so that _someone_ from our team can make it."

+++

When Niall gets the news that he's not moving forward into the very last producer's challenge, he turns into Harry's arms and hugs him tight, tighter than anything.

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispers, and his voice is tight in a way that makes Niall pretty positive that he's stricken.

"We couldn't both make it," Niall says, after he's had a minute or so of a good cry into the bit of the collar of Harry's shirt that's peeking out from his chef's jacket.

When he pulls away, he makes a face. "Sorry that you're all damp now."

Harry just pulls him in for another hug. "It's bollocks that we couldn't both get through," he says sounding a bit sad. Harry's thumb is circling around on his back, a little more than is strictly necessary. 

Niall likes it.

"Yeah, but only one person can win," Niall says, and he steps back and slaps Harry's bum. For emphasis. "So go make it you."

Harry is still frozen there, staring at him, so Niall leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. "Hazza," he says.

"Niall," Harry whispers, and he leans back and brushes a quick kiss against Niall's lips.

And, well, now that Niall is out of the competition, he'll have plenty of time to think about the implications of this thing he's been avoiding considering for so long. But for now, though, Harry has to go and cook his final meal.

So he just looks Harry dead in the eye, smiles, and says, "I think you can make it."

+++

"I didn't make it," Harry says. He looks oddly cheerful for someone who has come veritable inches away from getting his very own cooking show. "I got so much further than I ever dreamed of, as a pastry chef. It's honestly not that surprising that I didn't win, but." He shrugs.

"I'm disappointed, of course," he says, after a moment of reflection – on Niall, and Louis, and the text Liam sent him right after Niall, who was sitting all gorgeous and adorable in the stew room during Harry's final challenge just for moral support, got the word out that Harry lost. "It would have been well nice to be a Food Network star." He tilts his head at the camera, smiles a slow smile. "I suppose my priorities got rearranged a bit during the competition, though." He shrugs "I may not have a show, but I think I'll be all right in the end."

+++

They've set up two chairs behind the couch for Simon's team during the reunion episode, but the lads just pile onto the couch, the five of them vying for space on the three cushions, instead. It's been ten weeks since the competition wrapped, since Harry came off-camera and immediately kissed Niall full on the lips again and whispered, "This okay, then?"

(Niall would have said no, because he wouldn't have wanted to say goodbye to Harry after everything and leave for Ireland and never see him again, but Louis gave him a ring while he was in the stew room and pitched an idea that could have been wonderful and could have been terrible but was something Niall was willing to risk everything for.)

It's been just under seven weeks since he sold his restaurant to his friend Peter, who'd just moved to town from Johannesburg and moved to a town not too far outside of London, where several restaurants had gone out of business on the same road.

Louis Walsh, who is hosting the episode for the network, is saying something about the different personalities the teams had. "What do you think?" he asks, and he turns toward Simon.

Louis – Niall's Louis, obviously – pipes up. "Cheryl's girls were quite dedicated," he says. "Technically excellent, sweet ladies, very focused on their work and on flavor." He smirks. "Dannii's boys were – very finicky, very artsy, all about the visual presentation." A glance at everyone in the room. "We lads were the fun ones," he says, winking. "Our performances were fun, our food was fun, and we were fun both during and between challenges. Yeah?"

Cher is rolling her eyes at him, but she's nodding, and everyone else is, too. It's a fair assessment.

They move on after a few clips that basically back up what Louis said – including one truly great one of their food fight in the kitchen at the home - and since they haven't announced the fan favorite yet, Niall zones out a bit, leans back against the couch and into Harry's side. 

Zayn elbows Niall eventually, and he looks up to hear Liam say, "Yeah, we got along super well and we knew that we wouldn't like being off in our little towns so far away from each other after we grew together during this experience, didn't we? So we took a chance, and – oh, I see you have photographs."

And they do, because on the tv screen at the side of the room, there's a giant photo of the restaurant Niall and Liam just opened. GRAND OPENING, the banner reads, underneath the name, Around the World in 80 Plates. Neither Niall nor Liam are particularly creative when it comes to naming restaurants, and they're also not nearly as vain as the other lads outside of the food they produce. They make comfort food with an ethnic twist, with a few Southern staples and a couple distinctly African dishes and a lot of fusion.

Next is Harry's bakery, Hazza (which supplies both Around the World in 80 Plates and Zouis with bread and desserts), which is three doors down from Liam and Niall's place and then Zouis, the mostly-Mediterranean place that Zayn and Perrie opened with Louis across the street – "because Provence basically counts, obviously."

The pictures don't show how Niall and Liam live in the flat above Around the World in 80 Plates, two small bedrooms and a tiny kitchen but a large living room that is in a constant state of being half-messy (because of Niall) and half-clean (because of Liam). They don't show the flat that Louis and Harry live in above the bakery, or the little house that Zayn and Perrie and their baby share just one street over from the restaurants. 

Niall's pretty sure the living arrangements won't last forever – Louis and Liam are getting quite serious quite quickly, and he and Harry – well, he wouldn't characterize their relationship as _serious_ , seeing as it's so simple, but he loves Harry a lot and knows Harry loves him back, and living together would probably be just as easy as being together. 

Eventually. 

He's comfortable where he is now, though. He's willing to give it another few months to make sure it works before making any rash decisions.

There's no guarantee that these restaurants will work out, but – and yes, now they're showing the video clip of the web-based cooking show that Niall and the lads film every week. They take turns in each successive episode, trying to teach one dish to the others. It doesn't always work out, but it's always great fun. It's frankly impressive that the network is showing a bit of a web show that they have no stake in, but there you are. Niall suspects that Simon pulled quite a few strings to get this on air.

And then Niall must have zoned out again, because Harry is tightening his previously-loose grip on Niall's knee, and Louis is saying, "Your fan favorite is..." and Niall looks around and thinks, _I'd be happy with any of the lads getting it_.

+++

"Yes, the fucking camera is on," Perrie shouts from off-screen, as Niall vies for space with the others.

There are approximately seventy conversations going on at once – Liam is saying something intently to the camera about how there's no way of being certain that the restaurants will work out, but that as of now they always intend on finding some way to stick together, Louis is preening in front of the lens, saying, "shove off, Zayn, the world decide that _I'm_ their favorite, not you!" and Harry is engrossed in something on his phone. 

Niall is a little bit buzzed from their after-dinner drinks and he's so, so happy and warm. They're in the kitchen at Hazza. Fresh scones are in the oven. Max, Zayn and Perrie's baby, is sleeping through all the racket, but Perrie's girlfriends, visiting from out-of-town, are still cooing over him.

Louis finally snaps his fingers until everyone starts settling down. Harry tugs Niall closer to him, slipping an arm around his waist, as Liam tugs Louis further back from the camera and Zayn starts actually focusing on them instead of on Perrie, standing behind the tripod and making sure everything is still rolling. 

"You know," he says, maybe a bit too quietly for the camera to pick up. "I do think we ultimately did Simon proud."

"Better," Niall says, grinning at him. "We did _us_ proud."

**Author's Note:**

> I still feel very new to writing One Direction fic, please let me know your thoughts!
> 
>  
> 
> [lj](http://el_em_en_oh_pee.livejournal.com) | [tumblr](http://dulosis.tumblr.com)


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